Give Me A Chance
by castellations
Summary: Castiel Novak is a centuries old being, who has no intention of finding his soulmate. Until now. Maybe he'll give this one a chance.
1. Chapter 1

The air was cold and crisp as Castiel Novak stepped outside of the Starbucks, coffee in hand as he stepped onto the wet pavement of the sidewalk. He trudged down the sidewalk, heading to his apartment complex. He greeted Amara on his way there, and bought one of her cups of lemonade, although it always tasted terrible. He loved to make the little girl smile. It was so nice; she had a beautiful smile, really. It's too bad that her homemade lemonade tasted so awful.

He stepped up to his apartment door and heard the satisfying click of the key turning in the lock. He opened the door and the wonderful scent of home filled his nostrils. He sighed, setting his coffee down on the couch table and sitting down, flicking on the TV. The news reporter looked ecstatic, and as he actually listened he could see why. A fire is blazing in the background, and the reporter was actually smiling as she droned on about this being the third fire this month and all that jazz. He angrily switched off the TV and he settled into the couch.

Why…out of every day….did it have to be this one? He'd known it would happen, of course. When you meet your soulmate, you begin to age. Castiel, around a couple centuries or so ago, decided he'd like to stay young forever. Besides, he liked solitude. So when he'd met his soulmate...

But maybe he was tired of that. Maybe he…no. No. That…that wouldn't happen. The more time this incarnation spent around Castiel, the more he fell in love with him, the more he would remember. The more likely he was to remember all of the things Castiel had done before he'd… without mercy. If he wasn't...maybe he felt bad about that. This incarnation had…done something to him, made him feel things ten billion times stronger than when they had first met. That very first time…that very first time...no. Can't lose focus now. Can't.

Castiel shook himself out of his thought and got up from the couch. Walking over to the fridge, he pulled out the leftover pizza from last night and put it in the microwave. He went into his bedroom to change out of his dress suit before he remembered he had an appointment at 3:00 with Pamela. He looked down at himself, clad in his bee pajamas.

"Ah, fuck it."

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"I like your clothes, Mr. Novak."

"Screw you."

Pamela laughed. "Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I have a fiancée, remember?"

Pamela smiled fondly at Castiel. They had been friends since his first dentist appointment here. He should have hated her, what with all of her sexual inneudos and constant flirting. But instead, he found he liked her personality.

"So how's it going?" Pamela said suddenly, pulling him out of his own thoughts.

He frowned. "What?"

"You know." Pamela smirked knowingly. "The search for Mr. Perfect." Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Please. No."

Pamela flinched, obviously shocked by Castiel's tone, but she nevertheless raised her hands in surrender. "Alright then. What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Nothing. I want to go home and order pizza and binge-watch Doctor Who."

Pamela laughed. "Sorry, hun, but you're stuck with me for an hour. Might as well talk about something."

"You're a terrible therapist."

"And you're a terrible patient."

They were silent for a while.

"Dean."

"Excuse me?"

"Dean. His name is Dean."

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Dean was tired. His head was pounding and he didn't think the fluorescent light of the coffee shop was helping. Head resting against the cold tile of the wall, eyes closed, he waited for his coffee to brew. He needed the caffeine, though.

5:30 am, he thought, really was too early.

Usually he didn't mind working the morning shift. In fact, he found himself enjoying working early, witnessing the city and its people slowly coming to life. It was a nice and relaxing way to start off the day. It helped that Dean had been used to little sleep. He usually only got around three to four hours per night. Yesterday had been quite a night, though. He didn't even get to have a full hour of shut eye. He thought he could handle it, but clearly he had overestimated himself. But come on, Sammy's birthday? He couldn't have missed it, morning shift or no.

The barista finished with his cup and slid it across the counter into Dean already outstretched palm. He sipped it, not caring that it was way too hot and that it had too much sugar in it.

"Rough night?"

Dean opened his eyes, smiling sheepily when he saw Charlie leaning against the counter, an amused smile on her lips.

"Morning Charlie. I had a good night, yeah." He smirked.

Dean had moved to Sacramento, California about three weeks ago. He had to admit he had been nothing if not lucky. He had had little to no difficulties finding an apartment, in a nice neighbourhood, and found a steady job only a week later. He had just gone for a walk through town when he noticed the "For Hire" sign outside a Starbucks. It was love at first sight. Up until that moment, Dean had not yet thought about what he wanted to do here. But the coffee shop was only a couple of blocks away from his new apartment, and after talking to her for a while, he thought that the owner Charlie Bradbury seemed nice enough. He started his new job the next day.

Like he had expected, Charlie and him hit it off. While technically she was his boss, she was still like the little sister he never knew he wanted. His love for her only increased after a short conversation he had had with her not too long ago. He'd admitted that he'd never watched Lord Of the Rings, to which Charlie was aghast.

"No. No. No. Hells no. I will NOT allow this. Dean, you're coming over to my place tonight. We're gonna have a marathon."

"Charlie, I have work tomorrow!"

"You get the day off, then. My house at 5:00, sharp. Don't be late!"

And of course, Dean couldn't say no.

Taking a seat next to the window, Dean thought about his new found life. It wasn't only Charlie he got on well with. Dean hadn't always been a people person, but he got along with most people he had met here. They seemed to like him well enough.

Of course, the same could not be said for Dean's neighbor, Castiel Novak.

Dean had to smile just thinking about it. He chuckled.

He didn't really know what to make of the guy. He had been the first person on his floor that he had met.

The guy wasn't unattractive. Far from it, in fact. He was…angelic. He had stunning blue eyes, broad shoulders, and muscles. His dark brown hair spiked up in all different directions. Runner's body. Nice thighs. Good ass. Long, slender fingers had fiddled with his suit buttons when Dean caught a fleeting glimpse of him in the hallway.

He didn't even get his name until his next-door-neighbor Bela Talbot told him.

"His name is Castiel Novak," she'd told him. "And he's an asshole."

That being said, he'd never actually met him before.

By the time 12 o' clock rolled around, Dean was already feeling pretty worn out. He just wanted to go home and binge watch Doctor Who and eat pizza.

He was grateful his shift was almost over. The doorbell chimed, and in walked his last customer.

Dean started talking before he looked up. "Hi, welcome to Starbucks, may I take your—"

He looked up, and he did a double take.

Castiel Novak. Huh.

"Hello..." He squinted at Dean's nametag. "Dean. I'd like a caramel frappucino with extra whipped cream and caramel."

"Sure thing." He began to prepare the order while thinking of something to say. "So, eh…Castiel Novak?"

Silence. Then, "Yes. How did you know?"

"Oh, um. Well, I think we're on the same floor. Of…"

"Oh, I see. You're the new neighbor that just moved in."

Dean nodded, probably more enthusiastically than he should have. "Yeah."

"Where did you move from?" Castiel asked as Dean put more whipped cream into his cup.

"Oh…um, Lebanon, Kansas."

Castiel made an approving noise, and nothing more was said as Dean put the final touches on his coffee masterpiece and handed it over to Castiel. "Castiel, huh? Interesting name."

"Yes, well. My parents, they were, ah. Very…religious."

"Ah. Were you born on a Thursday?"

He honestly didn't expect an answer, but Castiel replied with, "As a matter of fact, yes. I was."

Dean grinned. "Cool beans."

Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

Dean shrugged. "It's just an expression. Enjoy your coffee."

Castiel just nodded and took his leave, coffee in hand as he exited the shop.

Dean smiled.

Before Castiel stepped into his car, he cast a glance back at Dean, who quickly tried to make it look as though he was not checking his ass out. He failed.

Castiel smiled back. Small.


	2. Chapter 2

Auctions.

He hated them. He didn't understand the appeal. He never had had any slaves of his own. Sure, his family had had plenty of them. It was to be expected for a high-class family such as theirs to have so many helping hands around the house. Caelius had always hated that, though. He vowed that he would never purchase a slave or have one around his household, ever.

Yet here he was. He watched the auctioneer as he brought the slaves up and sold them, one by one. Each one in a state worse than the last. Their hollow, emotionless faces began to blend together as the hours dragged by. He didn't think he would be able to stand it much longer. He was about ready to go home early if this didn't end soon.

That's when they brought him in. This new slave looked sullen, underfed, and exhausted. It was painful to watch him move. But something drew him in. Dirty blond hair, pale freckled skin, and a pair of vibrant emerald eyes. Caelius stared, wonderstruck. This slave was beautiful. He must have him.

"Going once...going twice?" the auctioneer called hopefully.

It wasn't until much later that he knew what had possessed him just then. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, "500 denarius." He almost didn't recognize his own voice. What in the name of the gods was he doing?

Everyone turned to him and stared, aghast that someone would pay so much money for a slave.

"Excuse me?" the auctioneer called, sure that he'd heard the man wrong.

Instead of shutting up, he repeated himself, with a voice that left no place for argument. "I'll take him for 500."

The deafening silence was broken by the auctioneer announcing, "Sold!"

The crowd applauded as the man on the stage was brought down and delivered to Caelius.

"Enjoy," the auctioneer told him, with a knowing glint in his eye. He handed him the keys. Not wanting to stay any longer than was necessary, Caelius simply nodded and led his new slave away by the chains.

As soon as they were out of eyesight, he led him into an alleyway and unlocked his chains. The slave stared, vibrant green eyes meeting electric blue.

"What are you doing, master?" he asked, rather timidly.

He sighed. "Please, don't call me 'master'. My name is Caelius, and you are a free man now."

The slave stared. "I am?"

"Yes. Don't you have someplace you can go? Somewhere to stay? Family perhaps?"

"N-no. No."

"I see."

Caelius sighed. This wasn't really going according to plan. Well, it wasn't like he actually had a plan to start with.

What had possesed him? Caelius tried to think. But what else was he to do?

"Then you will stay with me. But you are not my slave. I do not expect you to earn your keep. You will be fed, clothed, and taken care of, at no cost of your own."

The man squinted, probably unsure what to make of the situation.

"...Thank you."

Caelius nodded. "What is your name?"

"Decimus."

Caelius nodded. "Decimus," he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. Somehow, it sounded...right.

Gathering his thoughts, he led the way to his home.

Caelius was content. After the awkwardness of the first few days, where Decimus hadn't let his guard down for a second , as if he expected Caelius to turn on him, they finally seemed to have fallen into a routine. Decimus seemed at ease enough.

Caelius caught himself often gazing at him. He had been right, he mused, Decimus did clean up nicely, very nicely, even more so than expected.

He shook his head, scolding himself. Get a grip, he told himself repeatedly. This wasn't why he brought Decimus home. He expected nothing of him. He had surely been through enough as it was.

Still, there was no ill in enjoying his company and their talks. And did he ever. However shy Decimus might have been the first days, he bloomed open. Caelius tried to teach him everything he knew. Decimus was a quick learner and never failed to astonish him. But Caelius also learned first handed that he was quite stubborn, and never failed to speak his mind.

One night, however, everything changed.

Caelius returned home to find Decimus toiling over something. A quick sniff of the air revealed that it was dinner. Caelius was unreasonably furious. "What in Juno's name are you doing?" he thundered, flinging his cloak over a nearby chair. "I was going to make dinner when I got home! You couldn't have waited?!"

Decimus looked scared. "I...uh..."

Dinner was completely forgotten as Decimus and Caelius started yelling at each other.

"Why can't I make dinner?"

"Because you're not a slave! Slaves usually make the dinner!"

"You just said that you were going to make dinner!"

"I said usually!"

Decimus was taken aback by the force of his words. He sighed.

"Fine. Okay, you win. You can make dinner."

Caelius preened at emerging the victor, but his heart sank when he saw the dejected look on Decimus' face.

"This is nice. It's fine. I mean, you don't have to..."

"I know, But that's part of the reason why I want to," Decimus whispered shyly.

"Part of it?"

"I...uh...sort of kind of...love you. I mean, I want to...uhm...well, I mean, can you blame me? I mean, you're hotter than Venus!" he protested weakly.

Caelius felt his face go red as he tried to catch his breath.

Decimus...

Decimus loved him too? "Decimus...I...I can't, that is, we can't-"

"Why not?" he demanded.

Why not? Caelius had no answer.

Decimus smirked. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Sometime before the next morning, they found themselves caught in the throws of passion. Often Caelius found himself on the floor instead of in Decimus' arms, but other than that...well, needless to say, Caelius was going to send an offering to Venus in the morning.

And that's how it started. It had only been going on for a little less than a year, so he hadn't really aged. But Caelius knew, deep down, that Decimus was it for him.

He tried his best to keep their ongoing relationship as discreet as possible. It wasn't unusual for men to find pleasure in others, mostly masters and their slaves. Mostly, it was more of a display of power and dominance. But to share his life with Decimus? As he would with a wife? One could only dream...

To Caelius' dismay, they were apparently not as discreet as they thought. Everyone seemed to know about them. It seemed gossip traveled fast. But The best part was, for all Caelius had worried himself sick about their relationship, nobody cared.

Until they did.

One night Decimus didn't come home.

He had gone to town to run some errands. Caelius had insisted it wasn't necessary, that Decimus was not a slave. It was not his job nor was it his responsibility. But Caelius had learned a long time ago, the hard way, that Decimus was stubborn. He liked feeling useful, needed, even. Because somehow Decimus still felt like he owed it to Caelius. So, like many times before, after a brief half-hearted argument, Caelius had let him.

But as the hours ticked by, Caelius began to get increasedly worried. There was no good reason why Decimus wouldn't be back yet. He had this bad feeling that he just couldn't shake, and no amount of pacing around could make it go away. So he went out to find him.

And find him he did. After an hour or more of mindless searching, he found him in the town square. The Maximus twins were towering over him. They threw large, heavy stones in his direction, all the while throwing insults as well. Caelius stomped over to them to teach them a lesson, but they ran away as soon as they saw him coming.

Blood. There was so much blood. And Caelius knew it was too late. He tried though. Gods, did he try.

But his lover's body was cooling quickly. His breath was almost non-existent by this point. His heartbeat was faint. Caelius carried him back home, praying to the gods that he could be saved.

But it was too late. By the time Caelius arrived home, Decimus was already gone.

Caelius gave him a private but proper Roman burial.

The all consuming sadness of the first couple of days started to ebb away, leaving only burning rage in its wake.

It was not long before he was heading over to the Maximus household in a fit of anger.

He never was able to get the blood out of his tunic.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel took a long sip of his coffee as he stared absentmindedly at Dean Winchester.

This was...odd, to say the least. After lunch, he'd gone over to Singer's Repair Shop to get his car fixed, and who should be there but Dean, in all of his sweaty glory. Castiel was confused. Was this guy following him?

Dean looked up just in time to see him staring at his ass, and he smirked. "Hey there. Whatcha starin' at?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and said, "What are you doing here? I thought you worked at the coffee shop."

Dean frowned. "Starbucks? Oh, yeah. I do. 9 AM to 12 PM. Then I come over here and work from 1 to 5, then I go and wait tables at the Roadhouse from 6 to 2."

Castiel frowned as well. "6 to 2?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. PM to AM. You got a problem with that?"

Castiel opened his mouth to spoke, but Dean beat him to it. "So, what are you in for today? Engine repair, tires need replacing..."

"Uh...my-my engine, yes. It's not working."

Dean held up his hands. "Ah. Say no more. I'm on it." He walked over to Castiel's Prius and flipped open the hood.

"So...um, why do you work so much? Aren't you always tired, then?"

Dean grinned over his shoulder, though somehow Castiel knew it was fake. "Mountain Dew, man. It does wonders. Anyways. I've got a kid brother to put through college, and I ain't gonna let him down like I have everyone else. Clear?"

"'Ain't' isn't a word, Dean."

Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Ooo, a Grammer Nazi. Gonna shoot me down?"

Castiel groaned, and headed off in the other direction. He could hear Dean cackling behind him.

"Wait," Dean shouted.

Castiel stopped and turned around. "Yes?" he asked.

Dean licked his lips, which Castiel found very distracting. "Uh..a-are you going to pay now, or later?"

Of course. You're an idiot, Castiel. "Uh...later," he managed to say, and fumbled away, feeling Dean's eyes on him.

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Dean sighed as he hung up his jacket and tossed his car keys onto the coffee table in his cozy apartment.

He just finished with his shift at the repair shop and had to get ready to head over to the Roadhouse and work his bartending job there. He briefly considered taking a shower, but he decided against it, choosing to take one the next morning before heading to his shift at Starbucks.

It was hard work, having three jobs. Sure, none of them were particularly bad, and he was Dean Winchester, but it did become tiring after a while. Three jobs, seven days a week, and it only gave him six hours of sleep every night.

He would do anything for Sammy, though, and if that meant taking three jobs at once and drinking more caffeine than could possibly be healthy, then so be it.

Sam, his little brother by four years, had just recently moved in with his girlfriend, Jessica. Sam wanted to be a lawyer, so of course he had to go to some high-prestige school to do it. In California, he later learned. Even though it was four states away, and even though Dean would miss him terribly, Dean would do anything to make his little brother's dreams come true.

Sam didn't exactly agree with hs methods, however. As soon as he received the first envelope filled with money, he sent it straight back to Dean, along with a letter saying how he wasn't going to accept this; it was Dean's money, not his. But Dean was persistent. Unfortunately, so was Sam. They sent it back and forth until finally Dean just called and they talked it out.

Speaking of money...

Dean made his way to the small kitchen that he'd recently restocked. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and hopped onto the kitchen counter, ignoring all the greens Sam had been sneaking into his apartment. He'd repeatedly told his brother that he wouldn't eat rabbit food, but Sam had made him promise that he'd try to live healthier.

Next to him on the counter sat a book that he knew right away wasn't his.

Cautiously, he picked it up and read the note taped to the front. He relaxed at once, recognizing the handwriting as Sam's messy scrawl.

 _Dean,_

 _The last time I was in your apartment, I noticed you didn't have any books. Seriously, how do you live off of porn magazines? Gross, by the way._

 _Anyways, I thought that it wouldn't hurt to drop this off while I was delivering your groceries. It's a book about a guy whose soulmate keeps dying, and he can't ever stop him from dying. So he just starts killing them. Interesting, huh?_

 _Anyway, hope you enjoy it. I know I did._

 _-Sam_

 _P.S. Don't nag me for spending money on it. It's a copy I've had for a while, but I'm giving it to you. Just don't ruin it, okay?_

Yeah, sure. Whatever.

Dean picked up the book in question and surveyed the cover.

Standing on a small, black hill were two silhouettes, facing each other. They were holding hands, and the man on the left was slightly shorter than the man on the right. The backdrop was a setting sun. Gold lettering at the top read, Throughout The Years. Underneath that, it read, in smaller font, Misha Collins.

Huh.

Well, at least it wasn't a textbook. Maybe he'd give it a shot. Bobby was pretty lax when it came to free time, so he should be good.

Dean took his last swig of beer before grabbing his keys and throwing on his jacket.

He paused, staring at the book on the counter.

"Maybe later," he decided, and headed out.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

Dean didn't look up as he answered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The blonde girl laughed lightly and leaned over the bar. "C'mon, Dean. I know something's up. You have your 'I'm overthinking things' face on."

He wiped off a glass and set it on the counter before looking up. The Roadhouse was relatively empty aside from a few late night stragglers.

Crap. Guess I'm not getting out of this one, he though morosely.

"Nothing more than usual, I guess..." Dean said thoughtfully. He wasn't lying, technically; he was just thinking about the same things he always was: Sam and money.

"You know that Ellen would be happy to give you a raise, right?" Joe offered, reading his thoughts.

"What?"

"Dude, come on. Don't play that card with me; I know you're thinking about money. My mom would be more than happy to up your salary a bit. It's no big deal."

Dean didn't say anything in response, instead choosing to wipe the already spotless counter with a rag.

"Dean, seriously. It's fine."

"I don't want a raise."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't."

Jo huffed. "Okay, maybe you don't. But you need one. Seriously, let me talk to my mom about it."

"Jo, I'm fine. Honest."

Jo glared at him. "Fine. Whatever you say. But don't think you've escaped this, Winchester," she said mock seriously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed like no matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't get Dean's blood from his hands.

7 times.

Castiel had found his soulmate 7 times, and every time, he fell harder than the last. He decided he couldn't take it anymore.

Losing Dean. Waiting for him again for so many years. All alone.

Finally finding him. For a short time, being blissfully happy together. Only for fate to pull Dean away in the most cruel of ways.

Death.

He couldn't take it anymore. No man would have been able to. It had to stop. Their story was doomed. Be it fate, be it bigotry. They couldn't be together. He had to accept it.

So he decided. If he couldn't save him, then why not put them both out of their misery?

The first time he did it was in the early Middle Ages.

This time Dean was his neighbor. He was of little fortune and worked at the mills outside of town. They met on a sunny afternoon.

He thought the man seemed to get more beautiful every time they met. That perfect smile. Those eyes that still haunted his nights. He had tried to stay away. But he couldn't, and it seemed neither could Dean. Fate kept pushing them together. Dean. the prince in distress, and Castiel, the knight in shining armour.

So he went with it. As expected, they got along very well, which didn't surprise him anymore, them being soulmates and all.

It was easy to win his trust. Every time. How could Dean still be so trusting? All it took was a smile, a little kind attention, a couple of stolen kisses…

The more time they spent together, the harder it would be when the time came for Castiel to say goodbye…

Castiel was interrupted mid-thought by the man himself.

"Castiel!" Dean was smiling. How could fate be so cruel to such a man?

"Hello, Dean."

"I haven't seen you in awhile. Are you okay?" he asked, sporting a worried look on his face that did not suit him at all.

Castiel forced a smile. "Of course. You must excuse me, I was… busy." He made a show of bending , making Dean blush furiously.

"Would you be so kind as to accept my honest apology?" he glanced up, smiling.

"Maybe. I'll have to think about it." Dean smirked.

After checking that nobody was watching them, Castiel pulled Dean closer, their bodies flush against each other. He spoke hotly against the other man's ear: "Would a ride to the woods be enough of an apology? Just you and me. No one there to see. No one to judge."

He could feel the heat rising in Dean's cheeks, could hear his breath catching.

"Yeah, I'd like that," breathed Dean.

Castiel had somehow hoped against hope it wouldn't work. If only Dean could have been immune to him…

They had been walking in the woods for a time now. They spoke of everything and of nothing, laughing as though they had no cares in this world. Castiel wished he could capture this moment somehow, and keep it forever. He studied their surroundings. They had left their horses at the end of the path and walked for an hour or so...yes, they were far enough. Nobody would hear. Castiel prepared himself for what was to come. Dean choose that moment to speak up.

"So. I think…"

Castiel waited expectedly, knowing what was coming. "Yes?"

Dean took a deep breath. "We're soulmates, I guess."

Castiel stop in his tracks, taken aback. "What?"

Dean stopped too. "Oh, sorry. Nothing. I guess...I just figured..." He ducked his head, turning away from his companion, blushing.

Castiel held him back with a soft tug on his sleeve. He sighed. This was not going according to plan. He should already have done it. They were far enough.

"No, no. It's okay. You are quite right. We...we are soulmates. I figured it out a long time ago."

Dean beamed. It broke Castiel's heart.

"Good," Dean said, obviously unaware of Castiel's internal plight. "Because I...I know it's not very common, but...I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Castiel couldn't hold it back. He laughed, a mirthless, hollow laugh that made Dean flinch. "I wish it were that simple."

"What?" Dean seemed confused at the sudden shift in Castiel's mood.

"I'm sorry." Castiel apologized, reaching slowly for the knife in his back pocket. The moon shone on the blade, catching in the light. Dean's eyes widened.

"Uh, Cas. Cas, what are you doing?" He felt his back hit a tree trunk.

Castiel didn't say anything. He came closer. He stopped when he and Dean were mere inches apart.

Castiel brought his empty hand up and gently caressed Dean's cheek. Dean softened, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. Castiel wouldn't hurt me, he thought reassuringly. He loves me.

And Castiel drove the blade into his chest.

Dean's eyes flew open, and the first thing he registered was pain. Then he looked down at his bloodied chest and saw a knife hilt. No.

Dean looked horrified. His hands flew up to the wrist holding the hilt, weakly trying to push it away, get it out of him. But his efforts were in vain.

He looked up at Castiel, too shocked to speak. Castiel could barely see anything through his tears, but he registered Dean's look of betrayal.

Quickly, Castiel gathered Dean's face in both his hands and kissed him, soft and tender. He pulled back and forcefully took the knife out.

Dean fell at once, and Castiel caught his body in his arms. Sitting down, he readjusted Dean so that he lay comfortably in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered to Dean. "I love you. I love you."

Dean's hand came up to his chest and felt the hole there. He was too weak to speak, but Castiel knew what he would say next.

"I didn't want to. I couldn't let them hurt you. I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry." He hugged Dean tightly to his chest.

A few minutes later, Dean's body went limp in his arms.

Castiel's whole body was shaking with unshed tears. As soon as Dean was dead, he let them out. He sobbed and sobbed for all he was worth. He begged Dean to come back, come back to him, but he knew he wouldn't.

Dean was dead. He would have to wait. He sobbed for what seemed like years, but in truth must have only been a few hours. By the time it was early dawn, he was empty.

Standing up, he thought about what had to be done.

A mercy killing. That was what it had been. I was being merciful. I didn't want to hurt him.

Even Castiel's thoughts could not erase the pain of what he had just done.

He buried Dean deep in the woods.

Nobody would know. Except for Castiel.

This was goodbye. He couldn't keep loving something that death took away so often.

He had to be prepared the next time. His emotions had almost held him back. But he had to.

He had to do this.

Not just for himself, but for Dean as well.

Castiel returned home with a heavy heart and an even heavier conscience.


End file.
